Page 5 of Devil Inside

“I’ll make it.” I grab the package, testing its weight in my hands. Lighter than air.

“Please,”he insists. “Just hurry.”

“Don’t give yourself a heart attack, okay?” I offer my calmest possible voice, hoping to soothe this poor soul. “Whatever’s in here, it’s just not worth dying over.”

This kid’s expression sours. I must’ve struck a nerve. “Some of us work for a fucking living,” he mutters. “You do your job and get this where it needs to go, on time, or I’ll make sure your ass gets canned before the end of the day. You understand me?Are we clear?”

“Pleasure doing business with you,” I say, pushing off. “Have yourself a blessed day.”

I’d drag my heels if it weren’t for this bet. This dripping intern doesn’t deserve my sweat. Still—a bet is a bet is a bet, and you better believe I don’t want to be down twenty bucks.

Back on Broad. It’s the largest artery I’ve got, but it’s all blocked up. Traffic is at an absolute standstill at this hour. Commuters make their way to their offices. I’m zipping through the logjam for as long as I can, weaving in and out without taking anyone down.

I catch a break with a stretch of green lights, going as far as Grace Street.

Fifteen minutes. Make that fourteen.

Gotta go

go

go

Grinders have an innate sixth sense for these streets. Over time, your intuition kicks in. You see the flow of traffic, how it moves, even before it happens. You sense when a car is about to turn even before they flip their signal. It’s the only way to survive out here. Between me and my fifteen-pound bike against a three-thousand-pound car, sorry, even I’m betting against myself. So we’ve evolved. Adapted. Our survival instincts keep us alive out here.

Watch out for some driver opening their door.

Watch out for side mirrors.

Watch out for—

“Hey,” some asshole crossing at Grace and Franklin shouts before the light turns. “Watch where you’re going!” Pedestrians are worse than cars. Always on their flip phones. Everybusinessman’s got their own Blackberry now, it kills me. Everyone’s glancing down, zoned out on their Nokias, not looking where they’re walking anymore. They don’t see you, so you’ve got to see them.

Shoot me if I ever get a cell phone, okay? You have my permission. Nobody needs to find me that badly. I’m not nearly important enough to have a phone-line connected to my skull. My radio is fine. The voice of God sitting at Dispatch is all I need.

“How we doing out there?” My receiver crackles, right on cue. “We gonna make it?”

“You doubt me?” I radio back.“Ye of little faith.”

“I’ve already gotten two calls on this one...”

“I’ll make it, I’ll make it...”

RCU has pretty much cancered all of Grace, its campus expanding, metastasizing in the Fan and spreading itself out even further into the surrounding neighborhoods. College means kids means morning classes means a lot of freshman pedestrians crossing the street without looking where they’re going. Best to avoid that crash as much as possible.

Red light on Franklin forces me to turn right.

Fender bender on North 4th pushes me onto the sidewalk for about a block and I nearly plow through a row of daycare kids, all daisy-chained together, getting escorted to the local playground. Not a good move.

I cut through Monroe Park. That’ll get me a ticket, but it’s early and the cops aren’t even on their second donut yet. Just me and the homeless people sprawled out on the benches.

Red on Henry Street sends me down an alleyway. I need to find a street behind this building or I’m backtracking and then I’m royally fucked.

Red on Franklin again.

I need green!Come on, Richmond, gimme those green lights. I know you got ’em...I’ll pick up some speed and make up for lost time, as long as I get me some of that green. In the roulettewheel of city life, it’s never about betting on black.It’s always green, baby...

Here it is. The best part of my day—